


The Night of the Hunter

by hufflecas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Bottom!Cas, Dragon!Cas, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical, Urban Fantasy, brief mention of medical stuff, creature!cas, h/c, homeless!Cas, lizard!Cas, reference to past abuse, top!dean, very brief mention of gore at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflecas/pseuds/hufflecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's adjusting to life after losing his job as an EMT. He stays up late, eats shitty food, and keeps to himself. But that all changes when he almost literally stumbles into an injured homeless man one night. An injured homeless man who just also happens to be covered in scales.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night of the Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [Supernatural ReverseBang](http://spn-reversebang.livejournal.com/) on LiveJournal.
> 
> Art by the fabulous [Casblues](http://casblues.tumblr.com) can be found [HERE](http://casblues.tumblr.com/post/108192791745/my-art-for-rbb2014-the-night-of-the-hunter-by). Click [HERE](http://spn-reversebang.livejournal.com/211048.html) for the masterpost on LJ.
> 
> Many, many thanks to my beta and bff [ArchOfImagine](http://archofimagine.tumblr.com) for her ideas, encouragement, and constant insistence that I am not a terrible human being.

[](http://casblues.tumblr.com/post/108192791745/my-art-for-rbb2014-the-night-of-the-hunter-by)[](http://casblues.tumblr.com/post/108192791745/my-art-for-rbb2014-the-night-of-the-hunter-by)  
[](http://casblues.tumblr.com/post/108192791745/my-art-for-rbb2014-the-night-of-the-hunter-by)  
[](http://casblues.tumblr.com/post/108192791745/my-art-for-rbb2014-the-night-of-the-hunter-by)  


The door chimed behind Dean as he walked into the fluorescent light of the convenience store. He wondered idly if the noise ever drove the store’s employees crazy, or if working the graveyard shift at one of these stores was enough to do that all by itself. Dean was just a dude who wanted macaroni and cheese at three in the morning, but at this time of night you saw all types, even in the dead of winter. He’d already passed one guy slumped up against the wall just inside an alley. Dean could handle himself if trouble ever came looking for him but, luckily for him, he was a big enough guy that it didn’t. Not usually. But he still wouldn’t ever tell his mother that he went for walks by himself in this part of town in the wee hours. It wasn't entirely his fault — he’d worked night shifts so long that even now, unemployed, that’s the schedule he was on. Staying safe was usually just a combination of keeping your head up and looking ahead of you — keeping an eye on your surroundings, but also avoiding eye contact.

Dean nodded at the cashier as he headed past the counter but the guy looked totally dead on his feet and didn’t even acknowledge him. Dean knew exactly what he wanted and picked up one small cardboard box of dried pasta and chemical-cheese-powder goodness. After a moment’s pause he grabbed a second box, a large bag of sour candies, and a small stockpile of energy drinks. Just because he knew how awful all of that was for him didn't mean he'd ever stay away from it.

After paying, Dean was glad to be out of the store — that cashier was _creepy_ — but he already missed its heat. Dean shivered against the unreasonably cold night. He probably should have worn a scarf, but then he would have had to admit that it was winter, and that was something that Dean Winchester did not want to do.

As Dean headed down the street and away from the store he noted, absently, that the figure he’d seen before was no longer apparently sleeping in the alley. _Good,_ he thought to himself, _that’s definitely not a place anyone should spend the night._

But Dean only took half a dozen more steps before he saw the figure again, this time standing. Sort of. 

This time the guy was on his feet, leaning heavily against one of the boarded-up shop fronts ahead of Dean on the dark side of the street. He was walking, his gait heavy and stilted, and he had one hand clasped around his arm. 

Dean gave the guy a wide berth as he passed him, only glancing up once. The guy’s face was hidden in shadow by his hood but Dean could see the edge of what looked like a full sleeve of tattoos peeking out of the sleeve of his sweater and… was that nail polish? Just some punk street kid, probably. They couldn’t afford afford food or rent but for some reason were always covered in ink and sporting a few pounds of metal body jewelry.

Whatever. Dean sped up, not giving the guy any further thought. He wasn’t working any more, this wasn’t his responsibility. It was still cold as balls, and that mac and cheese wasn’t going to cook itself. He shifted his bags into one hand and pulled his collar a little closer against the cold.

It was the clatter of metal that made Dean look back. He turned around just in time to see the hooded man collapse on his knees, and a knife go skittering away into the darkness. 

_Shit._

“Hey buddy, you okay?”

There was no response, unless you wanted to count the guy completely keeling over face-first onto the pavement. A bulky backpack shifted awkwardly to the side.

_Double shit._

The last thing Dean wanted was to get involved. It really was. It seemed like everything Dean touched these days turned to shit. But if this guy was really in trouble, well, Dean couldn’t do nothing. Not with his skill set, his experience. Even with everything the way it was now. 

_God fucking damn it._

He put his bag on the ground and crept closer. The knife was definitely out of arm’s reach now, but what if this person had another on him?

It was when Dean knelt down that he saw the blood. It was nearly black in the orange light of the street lamp, pooling under the stranger’s arm, and streaked over his pale skin. 

Dean crept forward, placing a tentative hand on the guy’s shoulder. “Hey, you okay?” 

No response. 

He shook the shoulder a little at first, then more forcefully. “Hey!” 

That at least got a groan, the guy moaning directly into the wet pavement. Dean rolled him back a little, so his face would at least not be on the freezing, filthy ground. The guy’s face was covered in tattoos, too — _Who the hell would do that to themselves,_ Dean wondered — but more importantly he had a nasty split lip and his eyes were half-open, seemingly unable to focus on anything.

“I’d better not regret this,” Dean said under his breath, mostly to himself. He lifted the guy to a more-or-less-sitting position and suddenly saw why he’d been having so much trouble walking. The guy’s right ankle was twisted at a nasty angle — no way he was walking anywhere on his own tonight. 

Dean cast his eyes around — there were no other living beings in sight but the convenience store was only a dozen or so yards behind them. “You’re gonna be okay, buddy, I’m going to go get help—”

 _That_ seemed to wake him up. A hand lashed out and closed around Dean’s wrist. _Those are some long fingernails,_ Dean thought. _What the hell is this guy’s deal?_

“No,” he coughed out. “No… people.”

“No way.” Dean’s tone was firm. Professional. “You’re bleeding and have a twisted ankle. I’m not leaving you on your own like this.”

And that was enough to send the supposedly incapacitated stranger shuffling away from Dean at a speed that startled him. Someone hurt that bad shouldn’t be able to move that fast, but it was like a fire had been lit under his tail.

“You’re fuckin’ killing me, man,” Dean said, and it may as well have fallen on deaf ears.

The stranger staggered halfway to his feet before keeling forward again. This time Dean was able to catch him, but the guy was dead weight. Passed out.

Dean weighed his options. He couldn’t in all good conscience leave the man out there — even uninjured, anyone sleeping outside unprotected was liable to freeze to death. Now that he was unconscious he wouldn’t fight Dean calling an ambulance, but he’d been so scared of that. Dean put everything he knew together. The guy’d been carrying a knife, and had mostly likely been attacked. He must be terrified of whoever was after him finding him at a hospital. And who knew what sort of things this guy was wrapped up in — vandalism, theft, drugs. Even something as simple as filing a police report against his attacker could open up a whole other can of worms. And for all the judgement Dean knew he had already passed — and it was hard not to, who the hell tattoos their _face_ — he also knew he was in no position to judge. Sure, he was on the straight and narrow now, but it certainly hadn’t always been that way. He knew what it was like to have to watch his back.

\---

The usual eight-minute walk to his apartment from the all-night convenience store took Dean and his guest closer to thirty. Carrying an unconscious injured man would be burden enough all by itself, but the guy’s backpack had to weigh at least thirty pounds. It made sense — it was probably everything this guy owned. Dean didn’t dare leave it behind. He knew what it was like to live off very little.

When he dragged them both inside Dean was drenched with sweat and the stranger was still fading in and out of consciousness.

Dean hoped desperately that this guy’s injuries weren’t life threatening but a year and a half working as an EMT should count for something.

After flicking on the light switch and dropping his shopping bags and the backpack on the floor, Dean, stranger still draped over his shoulder, hobbled the two of them over to the sad, sagging couch in the middle of his apartment. Dean placed him down as gently as he could against one arm of the couch. The guy was out again, but seemingly breathing easily without too much effort. Now Dean could get a look at the stranger’s injuries. He pushed back the hood of the man’s sweater, and froze.

He did, it turned out, appear to have tattoos on his face: a few simple black markings around his eyes, mouth, and along his nose. There was also a more intricate pattern in a deep green receding under the man’s hair. But what really stood out to Dean made his hands shake.

The guy had horns. 

But… they couldn’t be real. Could they?

Dean reached out a hand and tentatively brushed a thumb against one of the protrusions. Before his hand made contact he was reminded of a school trip to a zoo, years ago, when the caretaker had brought out a boa constrictor for the students to touch. Dean, not being afraid of a big ‘ole dumb snake, was among those at the front of the crowd. But he had never pet a snake before, and there was that moment of anticipation, of _What will this feel like? What will this be?_

When he did touch the mysterious bump, he was surprised. It wasn’t warm or cold to the touch, instead matching the temperature of the room. It was rough and ridged. They were short, like some goat’s horns he’d seen, only beginning to curl back on themselves. Dean couldn’t even begin to guess what that might mean. An indication of age? No, not in people, that didn’t make any sense. _If this guy was even human_ — but Dean shook the thought from his head. His fingers skirted downwards to the base, where the skin under his hair was decorated with that emerald green pattern, and he just about recoiled again. 

Dean didn’t know tattoos could be _textured._ But the green areas of his skin were definitely not as smooth as the rest of it. It looked like… scales? 

Dean jumped back in surprise, hitting the coffee table. “What the hell is that?” he said to himself.

He wasn’t expecting an answer. 

“It’s my head,” came the slurred reply.

“Sh-shit, hey man—” Dean put all ridiculous thoughts of impossible body parts out of his mind. He’d seen people do some crazy shit to their bodies in the name of self-expression. He’d gone to high school with a girl who’d since had synthetic implants put in her forehead to resemble horns. They looked nothing like this, but still… Extreme body modification or not, there was someone who needed medical attention sitting in the middle of Dean’s apartment. Hazy though it was, Dean’s training took over. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

The stranger, seemingly only now aware of his surroundings, struggled to sit up. “I can’t be here.”

“I hate to break it to you buddy, but you’ve sort of got no choice. It’s this or the hospital and you said ‘No people,’ remember?”

Ignoring Dean, the stranger sat forward as if to stand up. Putting weight on his injured foot, however, put a halt to those plans. He gasped in pain and sank back into his seat.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dean said, as the guy settled back onto the couch, the resignation clear on his face. “What’s your name?”

He said nothing, and Dean ignored it.

“My name is Dean, are you gonna let me help you?”

The man said his next words deliberately, and the sound grated through his teeth. “I can’t—”

“—be here,” Dean supplied for him. “Yeah, I got that bit. Can you move your foot at all?”

The scowl that presented itself on the man’s decorated face was one to rival what even the most petulant of children could produce. He tested the range of motion of his foot, grimacing in pain at the result. “Yes, but it is very painful.”

“That’s good. If you can move it at all then it might not be broken, maybe just a sprain. We won’t be able to know for sure unless we get you an x-ray—,” anticipating an indignant response to even a remote suggestion of getting other people involved, Dean barreled on with his words, not giving the other man a chance to talk, “—but we won’t worry about that now. You _are_ still bleeding. Take that off,” Dean said, nodding to the stained purple hoodie. “I gotta look at that arm of yours.”

Dean rose, heading towards the small bathroom to grab his substantial first-aid kit from under the sink, and stopping in the kitchen to fill a glass with water. When he returned he was relieved to find the odd stranger complying, carefully peeling off his soiled sweater. The long-sleeved t-shirt he was wearing underneath it was dark grey. Dean suspected that if it were any lighter color he would be able to see blood stains blossomed across it.

“That too,” Dean said, gesturing at the obtrusive garment. When the guy hesitated Dean amended, “Or I can cut off the sleeve. But we need to get that arm free.”

Seemingly unwilling to sacrifice what may well be one of his only shirts, the stranger cooperated.

Dean tried his best not to stare but he was fighting a losing battle. He'd done this a thousand times before and luckily it only took Dean a little push to switch into professional mode. He knelt down next to the couch to get better access to the man's arm. The stranger flinched, and Dean made a mental note to speak in soft tones. "It's okay, we're gonna get you all fixed up." Being an EMT may not have been the most glamorous job in the world but it had definitely had its perks and having a fully stocked First Aid kit was one of them. It hadn’t even been a requirement — when Dean had first gotten the job his mother had been so excited and proud she’d bought the monstrosity as a congratulatory thing. And having enough friends who still partied — and got into fights — like they were in their early twenties encouraged Dean to keep it more than well stocked.

Dean opened the refurbished tool box that housed his First Aid supplies and pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves. He tore open an alcohol pad and began carefully wiping away the excess blood from the guy’s arm. The skin on the outside of his arm carried a similar scaled texture to what Dean had seen on his forehead. The laceration was on the outside of the stranger’s forearm. _A defensive wound, _Dean thought. Dean tossed the bloody wipe in the trashcan next to couch and grabbed another. Thankfully the cut was fairly clean, but it was deep enough to warrant stitches. Dean picked up the bottle of saline solution from his kit and began flushing the wound, catching the extra liquid with a clean towel. “You’ll need stitches, but I can do them here.” Dean tentatively poked the skin around the cut, testing its movement. The scales seemed harder than regular skin, but Dean hoped he could still pierce them with a regular needle. “If you trust me.”__

__Their eyes met. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”_ _

__“Not really. It will heal a lot better if I can get it closed.”_ _

__“Fine. Do it.”_ _

__“It’ll hurt a little, although probably no more than this already hurts. Do you want a drink?”_ _

__“I’ll pass.”_ _

__“Suit yourself.” Dean threaded a needle, cut off a length of thread, and knotted the end. As Dean had feared, the needle didn’t want to pierce the strange skin right away. Dean had to press harder until the skin relented. The man flinched a little. “Does that hurt?”_ _

__“A little.”_ _

__“Good.”_ _

__“Why is that good?”_ _

__“Basic law, if something that _should_ hurt doesn’t, something’s wrong.” Silence fell between them again, and Dean focused on his work. He’d only done this a handful of times, but it sure was easier doing it on someone else._ _

__“How do you know how to do this?”_ _

__“Had to know it for work.”_ _

__“Work?”_ _

__“Yeah.”_ _

__“What kind of work?”_ _

___You sure ask a lot of questions for a guy who won’t answer any._ “I was an EMT for a couple years.”_ _

__“Was?”_ _

__“Yeah. I quit.”_ _

__That seemed to be enough of an answer for the strange man as he let the topic drop. “My name is Castiel. Thank you for helping me.”_ _

__“It’s no problem, but we can’t rule out _that_ ,” he nodded at the foot that Castiel had gingerly propped up on the couch, “as not broken until we can get it x-rayed.”_ _

__“I’ll deal with it,” Castiel said resolutely._ _

__Dean went on as if the man had said nothing. “And besides — pretty sure the answer’s gonna be ‘no’ — but have you had a tetanus shot within the last five years?”_ _

__Silence._ _

__“That’s what I thought,” Dean continued. "So we’re gonna need to get you one of those too.” Sutures finished, he snipped the thread and began applying a dressing over the wound._ _

__“Dean, I appreciate everything that you’re doing, I really do, but you need to accept that there are… certain measures… that I won’t be able to take.”_ _

__“And why? Why is that?” Dean let the accusatory tone come through in his voice unfiltered. “Is someone after you?”_ _

__“Generally and frequently, yes.” Castiel spoke slowly and deliberately, as if he were talking to someone who Did Not Get The Point._ _

__“What?” Dean said as he peeled off his gloves and threw the soiled items in the garbage can. “You mean because of your… skin thing?”_ _

__“In a word… yes. But it’s not so much a ‘skin thing’ as it is _my skin_.” Castiel’s head nodded at that, his eyes slipping unfocused._ _

__“Shit,” Dean sprang forward, his hands on Castiel’s shoulders, “Cas, you still with me?”_ _

__Castiel’s eyes sprang open again. “I, yeah. It’s just my head. I… haven’t eaten in some time.”_ _

__“Well you’re in luck, I can whip us up some food soon. But first, I need to know, did you hit your head? What even happened to you?”_ _

__“I, yes, I must have,” Castiel said, steadying his head with one of his hands. “I was attacked. I’m not sure by who, but they took what little money I had.”_ _

__“Do you live, um, outside?” Dean was peering into Castiel’s eyes, looking for signs of unfocus. “Follow my finger with your eyes.”_ _

__“Yes. I am _homeless_ , if that’s what you are implying.” His eyes looked left, right, and left again after Dean’s index finger._ _

__“How many fingers am I holding up?”_ _

__“Three.”_ _

__“Uh… close enough. So how do you like, not get mugged all the time?”_ _

__“I am normally quite fast.”_ _

__“You run.”_ _

__“Normally.”_ _

__“Normally?”_ _

__“I… haven’t eaten in… what day is this?”_ _

__“Uh, it’s Thursday.”_ _

__“Thursday… four days. I haven’t eaten in four days. You might say it’s been a rough week.”_ _

__“Jesus! How are you even still standing?”_ _

__“I’m used to it. I can easily go a day or even two without feeling it much. I’ve always been like that. Even when food was readily available.”_ _

__“Well, Cas, we are going to get your foot in a splint so at least you don’t fuck it up even more, I am going to make you as much mac and cheese as you can handle, and then we’re going to get you an x-ray.”_ _

__“I told you I _can’t_ go to the hospital. How do you think you’re going to accomplish that?”_ _

__“I’m going to call my brother.”__

 _ _\---__

 _ _Sam Winchester enjoyed his life as a doctor of veterinary medicine. He enjoyed his small practice on the outskirts of town, his house in the suburbs, two dogs, and girlfriend Sarah. He even enjoyed being Dean’s brother, on occasion._ _

__This was not one of those occasions._ _

__It was something terrible past four a.m. when the personalised ringtone Dean had recorded when drunk, set as his contact’s ring when he was less so, and that Sam had somehow never changed, went off._ _

__“ _Pick up your damn phone, you giant moose. Pick up your damn phone, you giant moose. Pick up your damn—_ ”_ _

__Sam’s hand groped in the dark until he found the offending device. “Dean? What’s wrong, are you okay?” There was a pause, and Sam sat up in his bed. “What do you mean you need into the clinic?” He held his phone away from his head for a moment, sleep-tired eyes squinting at the brightness of the screen. “It’s half-past four in the fucking morning, Dean, and you don’t have any pets — what? Dean, slow down. What do you mean _he’s kind of a lizard but not really_ — no, it’s, yeah Dean, it’s fine. No, the clinic doesn’t open till eight.” He sighed, a long, I’m-so-tired-but-I-know-I’m-going-to-be-way-more-tired-than-this-very-soon kind of sigh. “Yeah, I’ll meet you there.”__

 _ _\---__

 _ _“How do you know we can trust him?”_ _

__It had taken nearly another twenty minutes to get Castiel down the stairs, outside, and into Dean’s shitty pick-up truck._ _

__“He’s my brother,” Dean said as he helped Castiel into the cab of the truck. “The day I can’t trust Sam is the day I don’t want to live on this planet anymore. You don’t have any siblings?”_ _

__“Not that I know of. It’s been… quite some time since I knew the comfort of any family.”_ _

__“Sorry to hear that, man. Are your folks… still living?” Dean had resisted finishing that sentence with the words _like you_ , but he worried they still hung in the air, unspoken._ _

__“I don’t know. I was in foster care as far back as I can remember.”_ _

__“So you used to be around people all the time…?”_ _

__“Not usually, no. I didn’t look much different from any child until just before puberty. Soon after my twelfth birthday my skin began to change and I was fortunate enough to be put with a loving foster family that became very protective of me very quickly. Jody homeschooled me, and told people that I had a skin condition that I was very self-conscious about.”_ _

__Dean said nothing. Maybe the painkillers were affecting Castiel more than he thought; he was speaking more than he had all night._ _

__“It was a good place for me. But she died when I was sixteen, and life became very difficult for me.”_ _

__Silence greeted that statement. Dean focused on driving out of downtown and towards the city limits. He cleared his throat. “So, how’s the pain? Did the Tylenol have _any_ effect at all?”_ _

__“Maybe… maybe a little. Not much.”_ _

__“ _Not much_? Jesus. You know I gave you like 1500 milligrams, right?”_ _

__“So you keep telling me.”_ _

__“That’s three pills. I only ever take as much as two, and that’s if I wake up in a bad way after too much time partying with Jim, Jack, and José.”_ _

__“I don’t follow.”_ _

__“If I’m hungover, Cas. If I wake up hungover. And it didn’t make a difference at all?” He glanced over at his passenger._ _

__“I seem to have a fairly high tolerance for those sorts of things.”_ _

__“Yeah, no shit.” He turned the truck off the highway and down a long driveway framed on one side by the white wooden fence of a horse paddock. “We’re here. And there’s Sam’s car.” Dean parked beside Sam, who got out of his too-small car at their arrival._ _

__“You owe me one, Dean. You realise this.”_ _

__“Yeah, yeah. Nice to see you too, little brother. Help me get him out of the truck.”_ _

__Sam shot Dean a glare in response but it was easy to ignore in the pre-dawn winter dark._ _

__Dean circled around to the passenger door and opened it. Castiel held his splinted foot out, putting his weight on his good one. He slid into Dean’s arms with ease, apparently not feeling embarrassed about invading his personal space._ _

__“Alright, Cas, this is my brother Sam. Sam, this is Castiel.”_ _

__If Sam thought it was strange that Dean already had a familiar nickname for an injured homeless man he had met barely two hours previous, he didn’t say anything. “Good to meet you.” Sam smiled, but it was thin-lipped. “Let’s get you inside and get that foot of yours checked out.” He lifted one of Cas’ arms over his shoulders, stooping a little, and the brothers carried Castiel inside the clinic between them._ _

__“Nice work on this splint, Dean,” Sam said as they helped Castiel onto the small table of the x-ray machine. “Ingenious use of a… spatula?”_ _

__“Yeah well, what was I supposed to use?”_ _

__“I’m not making fun of you Dean, I mean it. This is a good splint.”_ _

__“Yeah, yeah.” Dean tried to brush off his brother as if this were the beginning of a conversation they had had a thousand times before._ _

__“Just because you were fired from one service doesn’t mean you can’t get hired at another.”_ _

__Dean chanced a glance at Castiel, who was thankfully looking away. “You don’t know that Sam. And we’re not talking about this right now.”_ _

__The lights in the clinic were harsh and bright, and Castiel had kept his hood pulled up over his head. But the x-ray table, as Sam had pointed out, usually held nothing bigger than a dog. Dean supported Castiel’s weight as he stood behind it with his injured leg propped on its surface so that his foot was still in range of the x-ray’s scope. As he wiggled backwards a little more, his hood flipped back as well, exposing his face’s unusual features. Dean would have to buy Sam a dozen beers later, because he handled the reveal like a pro._ _

__One blink, and then the poker face was up. “Alright Cas, you think you can hold your leg still like that?”_ _

__“I, I think so.”_ _

__When the machine had finished, Dean helped Castiel shift to a more comfortable position in the center of the table, and followed Sam out of the room. “I’ll be right back, Cas. Hang tight.”_ _

__While they waited for the film to develop, Dean remembered something. “Hey, you got any tetanus shots around here?”_ _

__“I do,” Sam replied, frowning, “but they’re dosed for horses. Not people.”_ _

__“Somehow I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” Dean said._ _

__“What, because of how he looks?”_ _

__“No, because he tells me all casual-like that he regularly doesn’t eat for _days at a freakin’ time _without any harm, and because I gave him _double_ the amount of Tylenol that normally knocks me out and he didn’t feel a thing.”___ _

____“Huh.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah. ‘Huh’ is right. Guy’s an enigma wrapped in a what-the-fuck. You haven’t even seen most of his scales.”_ _ _ _

____“And you have?” Sam raised an eyebrow._ _ _ _

____“Seriously? You’re seriously going to give me a hard time about that _now_? Go get the damn tetanus shot.”_ _ _ _

____“I will, but don’t touch anything. The x-ray will be ready in a couple minutes.”_ _ _ _

____Dean grunted his acknowledgement._ _ _ _

____Sam paused by the door, his hand on the wall. “And Dean?”_ _ _ _

____“What?”_ _ _ _

____“Just… be careful, okay? Don’t, don’t get in too deep.”_ _ _ _

_____Again._ _ _ _ _

____Sam was gone before he could see Dean roll his eyes.____

 _ _ _ _\---____

 _ _ _ _“The good news is, Cas, your ankle’s not broken.”_ _ _ _

____Dean watched as some of the tension eased from Castiel’s shoulders. “And? What’s the bad news, doc?”_ _ _ _

____“He’s got a very severe sprain. It’ll hurt just about as much as a broken foot, and he probably won’t be able to walk on his own for a while.”_ _ _ _

____“You can talk to me directly, Sam. I’m still here.”_ _ _ _

____Both brothers jumped at the intrusion of Castiel’s low rumbling voice. The injured man had barely spoken a word since arriving at the clinic._ _ _ _

____Dean aimed a smack at Sam’s arm. “Yeah Sam, he’s right here.”_ _ _ _

____“Shit, I’m sorry Cas. I’m not used to my patients being able to talk back, you know?”_ _ _ _

____“It’s fine,” Cas said. “What can I do for my foot?”_ _ _ _

____“Not much, I’m afraid. Basically for a sprain you just need to keep it immobilized, stay off it, and let it heal. I can send you home with some pain meds, but it’s mostly just a matter of time. And I’ve given you your tetanus shot, so as long as you keep that wound clean it shouldn’t give you any more trouble.”_ _ _ _

____Castiel stayed silent as he let the information sink in._ _ _ _

____“Do you… have a place to stay?”_ _ _ _

____It was Dean who spoke next. “He does.”____

 _ _ _ _\---____

 _ _ _ _The argument to convince Castiel to stay while he recovered from his injuries had been wrought with stubbornness on the part of his scaly new friend, but Dean’s logic had ultimately won through. He had the space, and he’d be able to keep an eye on Cas’ injuries. There was no way Castiel could say no._ _ _ _

____They settled into an uneasy routine of sorts. They kept the same nighttime hours but neither seemed to know what to say to the other so it made for a lot of quiet hours. Dean had tried making small talk but what do you say to someone who doesn’t watch tv or follow sports? So eventually he let the silence be and went around his business. Castiel found Dean’s bookshelf, and Dean worked through his DVR._ _ _ _

____On the third day Dean left for groceries in the early afternoon while Castiel was still asleep. When he returned, arms laden with bags of food, he expected Castiel to still be shut away in the spare bedroom, not half-balanced on a kitchen chair against the sink, washing dishes._ _ _ _

____“Woah, hey Cas.” Dean put the bags down on the kitchen table. “You don’t have to do that. Go rest.”_ _ _ _

____Castiel shifted his weight, and ignored Dean’s request. He had brought one of the wooden kitchen chairs to the sink and was kneeling on it with his bad leg, his other foot flat on the ground. The chair was just a little too short, however, and left his back cocked at a strange angle. He rinsed off the plate he was washing and placed it in the dish drainer before picking up another out of the sink basin. “You’ve been feeding me, boarding me, and tending to my medical needs for three days now. I can clean up a little.”_ _ _ _

____“If you say so. But that looks incredibly uncomfortable.” Dean crossed the small space to the sofa, and returned with one of the square throw cushions. “Here,” he said, “lift your knee.” Castiel let Dean brace his weight while he did so, and slid the cushion onto the seat of the chair. “There. That better?”_ _ _ _

____“Much. Thank you.”_ _ _ _

____Sometime after the second day Castiel had taken to wearing his sweater with the hood pushed down, exposing his horns. Dean found himself admiring them — before he gave himself a mental kick square in the ass. “I, uh, I wasn’t sure what sort of things you liked to eat, so I just sort of got what I normally have. Meat, eggs, bread, pasta. Hope that’s okay.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m not normally fortunate enough to have a choice, so anything would be fine, thank you.”_ _ _ _

____Dean picked up one of the bags, and started sifting through it looking for things that need to go in the fridge. “You been up long?” he asked. “This is early for you, isn’t it?”_ _ _ _

____“A little,” Cas conceded. “Benny came by.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh,” Dean said, putting a loaf of bread beside the toaster. It took him a moment for the information to sink in. “Wait, _what?_ ”_ _ _ _

____“I said, ‘Benny came by.’” Castiel repeated the words carefully. “That’s what woke me. You have very loud friends.”_ _ _ _

____Dean rounded on Cas, looking him in the eye. “You didn’t let him in, did you?”_ _ _ _

____“It would have been bad form on my part, since this is not my home.”_ _ _ _

____Dean relaxed._ _ _ _

____“Also, I was not sure whether or not you had informed your social circle that you had a _kind of a lizard but not really_ staying with you."_ _ _ _

_____Shit._ _ _ _ _

____"Shit Cas, you know I didn't mean—"_ _ _ _

____"No, Dean. It's fine. I've heard far worse in my day."_ _ _ _

____“You have? But I thought—”_ _ _ _

____“That I avoid people? Generally. But we do live in a city. I do run into them from time to time.” He put another plate in the dish rack._ _ _ _

____“So if you didn’t answer the door how do you know it was Benny?”_ _ _ _

____“The loud Cajun man shouting ‘Dean, it’s Benny, open up’ was a hint.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, that would do it. Did he say anything else?”_ _ _ _

____“He said he was sorry you lost your job because of him—”_ _ _ _

_____Crap, here we go._ _ _ _ _

____“And also that you’d have to leave your apartment eventually.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, that sounds about right.”_ _ _ _

____“Is that true? Did you lose your job because of that man?”_ _ _ _

____Dean looked at the ground and ran a hand through his hair before continuing. “You could say that.”_ _ _ _

____Castiel turned to face Dean as best he could while remaining balanced on his chair. “Dean, you’ve taken such good care of me these last few days. I was in such a bad state when you found me… it’s very likely that you saved my life. It’s obvious that you are very skilled in your field. It’s less obvious, but I think just as apparent to anyone who pays attention to you, that you have a passion for it.” He was staring at Dean intently, and Dean knew he wasn’t going to get away with brushing this off. “You didn’t quit being an EMT.”_ _ _ _

____“No, I didn’t.”_ _ _ _

____“So what happened?”_ _ _ _

____Dean picked at the hem of his shirt and took a deep breath. “Benny and I were on a job, and it was just another day at the office, you know? This elderly woman had fallen, was dizzy or dehydrated, or something. We were getting her onto a stretcher, and Benny’s a big guy. Y’know, not always aware of his own strength. So we had to lift this woman, and you’re supposed to lift someone with two people, one on each side, under the arms, right?”_ _ _ _

____Cas nodded sympathetically, although there was likely no way he would know the procedure._ _ _ _

____“But I had my hands full of equipment and Benny said, ‘No, I’ve got her, it’s fine’ — and I should have known better, I _did_ know better — because he pulled on something too hard. We get back to the hospital and on top of everything else, she has a broken shoulder. And Benny, I know he’s already got a couple strikes on his record, and that this could hurt him a lot more than it could hurt someone with a clean record.”_ _ _ _

____“Like you.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah. Like me. So I took the fall. Benny had been good to me, shown me the ropes, taken me under his wing. He was my friend. And it shouldn’t have been a big deal, except when the woman’s son found out the EMT’s had broken his mom’s shoulder, he was livid.”_ _ _ _

____“He insisted upon your termination.”_ _ _ _

____“Bingo.”_ _ _ _

____“And when you approached your friend, he wouldn’t help you?”_ _ _ _

____“Right again, Cas.”_ _ _ _

____“But surely you can appeal the decision.”_ _ _ _

____“I could… but it’s his word against mine. And he’s been there way longer… it’s just not worth it.”_ _ _ _

____Castiel said nothing for a few long moments, just stared at Dean with those piercing eyes of his. It was unsettling. “That wasn’t your fault, Dean.”_ _ _ _

____“Cas, some poor ninety year-old woman with bones friggin’ made of glass got a broken shoulder while she was in my care. It’s as good as my fault.”_ _ _ _

____“Dean, are you not fighting for your job because Benny and the woman’s son are making it impossible, or because you feel responsible for her injury?”_ _ _ _

____The words felt heavy, like they were thrown against Dean’s chest and then clattered to the floor. But it was nothing he could deal with now. “Alright, I’m firing you from the kitchen.”_ _ _ _

____“What?”_ _ _ _

____“You’ve been on your feet, er, foot, too long. Sit down. I’ll finish those.” As Dean helped Castiel hop to a seat at the kitchen table he wondered about the word vomit that had just happened. The only other person who even knew that whole story was Sam, and Dean had had to have three beers in him before he could even get the first sentence out. He’d only known Castiel for three days, not even._ _ _ _

____What was it about the guy that had Dean being so loose-lipped all of a sudden?____

 _ _ _ _\---____

 _ _ _ _Later that evening Dean found Castiel settled on the corner of the couch, injured foot resting on the coffee table, his nose buried in an old Ray Bradbury novel. He looked up when Dean entered the room. “I’m sorry, I’m in your way.”_ _ _ _

____“Don’t be ridiculous Cas. You take up almost no space at all — you haven’t noticed after three days that I can work around you?”_ _ _ _

____“I’m not used to inhabiting a close space with other people. I don’t want to be a burden.”_ _ _ _

____“Well, cut it out, ‘cause you’re not.” Dean sat down beside him, placing the first aid kit on the floor in front of his feet. “Now c’mere, I’ll check your stitches and change the bandage.”_ _ _ _

____Castiel placed the book face down on the arm of the sofa and took off his hoodie. He was wearing a faded black t-shirt underneath._ _ _ _

____“How’s it feeling, by the way? Any tenderness?”_ _ _ _

____“Less so. It itches.”_ _ _ _

____“Good, that means it’s healing.” Dean donned a pair of latex gloves, picked up a pair of scissors, and snipped through the cotton bandage._ _ _ _

____The laceration appeared to be healing well. Skin that had still been raw and angry twenty-four hours prior was already considerably less so. There were scabs forming and Castiel didn’t flinch when Dean tentatively pressed the skin around the wound site._ _ _ _

____“How does it look?”_ _ _ _

____“Good,” Dean answered, unable to keep a small amount of wonder out of his voice. “You’re a fast healer. Stitches might even be ready to come out in a couple of days.”_ _ _ _

____“Is that fast?”_ _ _ _

____“Pretty fast, yeah.” Dean cleaned the wound and rewrapped it with fresh gauze, focusing on his work rather than the blue eyes he could _feel_ on his head, his hands. _Always those damn eyes._ The silence began to feel heavy, as it so often did. As Dean tied off the bandage he let his eyes be distracted by the odd discolored scale. He opened his mouth to say something, changing his mind at the last minute._ _ _ _

____Castiel must have noticed. “You’re wondering why some of my scales are white.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, I mean, I don’t mean to be nosy… is it an age thing? Like how people get grey hair?”_ _ _ _

____Cas’ eyebrows raised a little at that, the corner of his mouth crooked in a smile. “You really think I’m that much older than you? Dean, I’m twenty-four. No, I’m not old enough to get grey hair. Those,” he said, pointing to the few anomalies along his right arm, “are where my scales have been ripped out.”_ _ _ _

____“ _Ripped out?_ Does that happen a lot when you get into fights?”_ _ _ _

____“On their own, almost never. No, these were deliberately pulled from my skin.” The flat, matter-of-fact quality to Cas’ voice gave Dean goosebumps._ _ _ _

____“Cas… when you said earlier that you ‘run into’ people, what did you mean? You mean run-ins like you had the other night?”_ _ _ _

____“Somewhat. I've come to understand that I'm something of an 'urban legend' amongst some of the city's youth.”_ _ _ _

____“Huh?”_ _ _ _

____“I don't know how it happened, but a few years ago some local high school students got wind of my existence. It's some sort of a rite of passage to track me down, harass me. Recently it's become something of a trend to bring back one of my scales as proof that I exist, that they saw me. It's made life rather difficult.”_ _ _ _

____“And you don’t fight back?”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself than absolutely necessary. It’s usually just as easy to get away as it would be to stand my ground.”_ _ _ _

____“But Cas… I mean, what the fuck? That's so incredibly fucked up! And how come I’ve never heard of this ‘urban legend’ before?”_ _ _ _

____Castiel leveled a steely gaze on him. “Did you grow up in this city?”_ _ _ _

____“Well, no…”_ _ _ _

____“That would probably explain it, then.”_ _ _ _

____“But you could be seriously hurt... you _were_ seriously hurt!”_ _ _ _

____“I suppose. But what am I going to do, call the police? Like I said, I can generally take care of myself. I have to.”_ _ _ _

____“So they grow back then. Your scales.”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, but never in their original color. People could conceivably find them, as they do shed on their own occasionally, but I’m rather careful about leaving them lying around. So they find other ways.”_ _ _ _

____“That must hurt like a bitch.”_ _ _ _

____“I think maybe it's about equal to you losing a toenail.”_ _ _ _

____"Jesus..." Dean shuddered. “How long does it take for one of them to grow back?”_ _ _ _

____"It can take several weeks, or even months.”_ _ _ _

____“ _Months?_ And what, there’s just a hole in your skin until then?”_ _ _ _

____“No. The scale only comes back if the skin underneath wasn’t damaged. If it is…” Castiel sat forward and pulled his t-shirt over his head._ _ _ _

____Dean blinked, unprepared for the sight before him, but unwilling to show any sort of reaction. _Be professional, be professional._ It appeared that Cas' scales did indeed cover his entire body, if his naked torso was any indication. They were darker and, Dean guessed, thicker over his back and shoulders, and the outside of his arms. The scales shrunk and faded into regular skin on his chest and stomach. _Wonder what the rest of him looks like,_ Dean found himself thinking._ _ _ _

____Castiel was, thankfully, quite unaware of Dean’s inner monologue. He felt around at the base of his neck until he found what he was looking for. “...This happens.” He pointed with one pointed black nail to an ugly mass of scar tissue just to the right of the top of his spine. “My skin may heal quickly, but not always well.”_ _ _ _

____“Jesus, Cas…” Dean found himself rubbing the back of his own neck unconsciously, feeling grateful he'd never had anyone pin him down to rip chunks out of it._ _ _ _

____Castiel spoke on, as if he were narrating something that had happened to someone else. “The scar tissue is of a different density than the rest of my skin — here, you can feel it.”_ _ _ _

____Dean reached forward instinctively before remembering he was still wearing the gloves that he had cleaned Cas’ wound with. “These are dirty, Cas. I shouldn’t —”_ _ _ _

____“Then take them off. Touch me with your hands. This is an old wound, long since healed over.”_ _ _ _

____Dean swallowed a lump in his throat he didn’t realise was there, and peeled the gloves off. He touched the lump of scar tissue, and Cas was right — it felt different than the other skin. And this — it felt different than all the other times Dean had touched Cas._ _ _ _

____"I know there must be other marks on my back, but I can’t always see them. Sometimes I can tell I’ve lost a scale but I don't even know if they've grown back in properly. It's been some time since I've found myself in a well-lit area with two mirrors."_ _ _ _

____“I can, um, I can take a picture if you like. And show you. Promise I’d delete it afterwards.”_ _ _ _

____“I know you would, Dean. I trust you to. You don’t need to go to the trouble. But… would you look?”_ _ _ _

____"Look for scars? Um, sure. I mean, I _was_ a medical professional, although if you want an expert on scales we should probably ask Sam—"_ _ _ _

____"Just tell me what you see. I don't know how far down the scars go," he said, and turned so that his back was square to Dean._ _ _ _

____Dean let his fingers trail down Castiel’s back, stopping at any irregularity in the scale pattern. “There’s one here,” he said, stopping at a small scar on the left side of Castiel’s ribcage._ _ _ _

____“Yes, I remember that one,” Cas replied, and said no more._ _ _ _

____Dean continued mapping out the terrain of scars and scales on Castiel’s back, enjoying the contact more than he probably should, and also feeling that he was learning as much as he could about the man sitting in front of him as one might after an entire night of conversation. Along the line of Cas’ spine the scales were slightly ridged, and Dean was surprised at how much he relished the feel of them under his fingers._ _ _ _

____Castiel apparently was enjoying the examination as well. He sighed contentedly and pressed back into Dean’s touch almost shamelessly._ _ _ _

____“Can you feel lower?” Cas asked. “Near the base of my spine, on the other side…”_ _ _ _

____Dean saw what Cas meant immediately. It was a nasty cut that was maybe about half healed. It looked as though as many as three scales had been lost. “Yeah, those ones don’t look like they’ve grown back yet. I don’t know if they will.”_ _ _ _

____Castiel sighed._ _ _ _

____“Shit, Cas. I’m so sorry someone did this to you. It’s fucking barbaric.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m glad you think so, Dean. Thank you.”____

 _ _ _ _\---____

 _ _ _ _Dean slept fitfully that night. He dreamt Benny came after him with a knife, all the while saying, _“But we’re friends. You owe me this. It’ll be okay, brother, I promise.”__ _ _ _

____He woke violently to the sound of screams and it took him a moment to realize they were his own. Before he opened his eyes he could still hear the rumble of a deep male voice, but it wasn’t Benny’s, and it was only a few inches from his face._ _ _ _

____“No, I’m looking right at him,” Castiel said, a cell phone — Dean’s phone — cradled against his left ear. “He’s breathing, but he’s making a lot of strange noises.” He sat on the edge of Dean’s bed, wearing nothing but a baggy pair of sweatpants, and leaned over Dean, inspecting him._ _ _ _

____“Cas?”_ _ _ _

____“He’s awake. Dean, are you alright?”_ _ _ _

____“Cas, I’m fine — who are you talking to? _Is that my phone?_ ”_ _ _ _

____“I’m talking to Sam. Are you sure you’re alright? You were very loud.” The worry on his face was palpable._ _ _ _

____“I told you, I’m _fine_. It was just a nightmare.”_ _ _ _

____“He says it was just a nightmare.” Castiel repeated into the phone. “I don’t —”_ _ _ _

____“Give me that,” Dean said, and took the phone before Castiel had a chance to react. “Sam? Yeah, everything’s fine. It was just a shitty dream. Yeah. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Yeah. Bye.” Dean hung up the phone, glancing at the screen before placing on the table next to his bed. The phone’s clock read _5:57 am_. “Shit, did I wake you?”_ _ _ _

____“You were screaming. I didn’t know what to do.” Castiel was shaking, his voice unsteady._ _ _ _

____Dean placed a hand on Castiel’s arm. His skin was clammy. “Like I said, Cas, it was just a nightmare. Nothing to worry about.” The understanding had yet to make light in Castiel’s eyes, but then it hit Dean. “Cas, have you never had a nightmare before?”_ _ _ _

____“...No. Have you?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, it’s pretty normal.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh.”_ _ _ _

____“Cas… do you not dream?”_ _ _ _

____“Would I know if I did?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah Cas. You’d know. Shit, that explains why you’re so wigged out. You sure you’re gonna be okay?”_ _ _ _

____“Th-thank you, Dean. I’ll be fine. I’ve had my share of uneasy nights, I assure you.”_ _ _ _

____“I know that, I just… don’t want you to have any of them here.” Despite his assurances to the contrary, Castiel seemed even more shaken than the first night they had met. “Do you… do you need to stay in here?”_ _ _ _

____“It’s fine. You’re the one who had a bad dream.”_ _ _ _

____“And you’re the one who was freaked out by it.”_ _ _ _

____With a definite air of unease, Castiel turned back to look at the open bedroom door. “I think I’ll just go get a glass of water and return to my book. Will you be alright now? Or will the nightmare come back?”_ _ _ _

____Dean sat up and tossed his legs over the side of the bed, quickly rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He noticed that Castiel was standing on his bad leg and frowned. “Let me help you. You shouldn’t be putting so much weight on that leg. I think I have some tea in one of the cupboards. It’ll calm us both down. Or whiskey. Pick your poison.”_ _ _ _

____The pain in his leg finally seemed to register on Castiel’s face and he nodded. “Maybe just a little whiskey.” Castiel put his arm around Dean’s shoulder and let Dean support his weight as they made their way slowly back to the kitchen._ _ _ _

____“Easy does it,” Dean said, letting Cas slide into one of the old wooden chairs. He pulled out a chair in front of where Castiel sat, and placed a cushion from the couch on it. He pointed to the seat with as much authority as he could muster. “Your foot. Up.” As Cas complied, Dean searched through his cupboards for the whiskey. He brought it and two glasses back to the table, pouring them each two fingers. “Bottoms up.”_ _ _ _

____Castiel took a sip and made a face._ _ _ _

____Dean laughed. “It grows on you, I promise. Although, to be fair, if alcohol affects you anything like medication does, you’re gonna need a whole hell of a lot.” He finished his own in two gulps and poured another, the familiar burn working its way down his chest. It was then that he realized he was wearing only a pair of boxers._ _ _ _

____“What’s it like to dream?”_ _ _ _

____Dean was distracted from his own partial nudity by the question, and he was grateful for it. “I dunno… I’ve never really thought about it.”_ _ _ _

____“Is it like watching a movie?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah. I mean, sometimes. Sometimes it’s like being _in_ a movie, and sometimes you’re you, sometimes you’re not. Sometimes it’s a bit of both.” He took another drink._ _ _ _

____“What do you do in dreams?”_ _ _ _

____“All sorts of things. They’re usually pretty fuckin’ weird — at least, mine can be. When you’re in the dream, when you’re having it, nothing seems out of ordinary. Talking rabbits, goldfish swimming through a garden, driving a car made of dirt — it all seems pretty par for the course at the time. It’s only when you wake up that you wonder what the hell you were smoking when you went to bed.”_ _ _ _

____“None of that sounds too terrible.”_ _ _ _

____“And lots of them aren’t. Hell, _some_ dreams are pretty fucking awesome.” He smirked into his glass, and then realized that if he remembered any of a number of particularly good dreams it would become embarrassingly apparent in his current state of dress._ _ _ _

____“But there are bad dreams, too.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah. As you saw.”_ _ _ _

____“But why? Why are some good and some awful? Why would you ever dream about a car made of dirt?”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t know. The brain can come up with some fucked up shit. I heard it’s your mind’s way of working through your problems, or the shit that’s bothering you. The car dream — that’s one I used to have when I was first learning to drive. God, I was terrified of it at first. I’d be driving along the highway, everything going fine, and then the whole car would just crumble apart beneath me.”_ _ _ _

____“And what’s bothering you now, Dean? What was your nightmare about?”_ _ _ _

____Dean’s first instinct was to lie and brush the nightmare off as nothing memorable, but when he looked up into those damn blue eyes and remembered all of the tragic aspects of Castiel’s life that he had shared willingly — Dean couldn’t do it._ _ _ _

____“Same as always,” Dean said wiping his hand over his face before continuing. He figured that _someone_ would probably give him a hard time about drinking as much whiskey as he was at six in the morning, but they weren’t there and he didn’t give a shit. “It’s Benny.”_ _ _ _

____“From your job?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah. He’s chasing after me. Sometimes it’s the old woman whose shoulder he broke, sometimes it’s an old woman I don’t recognize. Which sounds stupid — I mean, what the hell is scary about an old lady? And it’s not, when you’re awake. But when you’re dreaming it’s fucking terrifying.”_ _ _ _

____Castiel continued to listen intently._ _ _ _

____Dean carried on. “And I want to run, but I _can’t_ , or I decide for some reason that I don’t want to. And then they’re on me. It starts with one of them grabbing my hand, and squeezing until I feel something pop, and then break. And they keep squeezing, and all my fingers break. But they don’t stop, they snap my arms, and my legs, and my back. And I feel _every single one_.”_ _ _ _

____Castiel leaned forward to rest his hand on Dean’s where it rested on the table. He stared at where their hands met for a moment before raising his eyes to meet Dean’s. “Is it as painful as a real broken bone?”_ _ _ _

____Dean frowned, trying to recall every detail of a thing he did very definitely not want to recall every detail of. “I’m… I’m not sure. I know it’s fucking unpleasant, but more than that, it’s _sad_. Like, I know in that moment that I’ll never be okay again. Because when they leave me, I’m still alive. I’m not going to die, but I’m never going to be able to move either.”_ _ _ _

____Castiel considered the story Dean had laid in front of him. “So this… this is your mind dealing with the emotional trauma of Benny costing you your job?”_ _ _ _

____“I think that’d be it, yeah.”_ _ _ _

____“That sounds terrible. I can understand why you were screaming tonight.”_ _ _ _

____Dean huffed a small laugh under his breath. “That’s the thing, though. Tonight it wasn’t the broken bones dream.”_ _ _ _

____“What was it?”_ _ _ _

____“It… it was still Benny. But this time he had a knife.”_ _ _ _

____“Has he ever had one before?”_ _ _ _

____“Not that I can remember, no.”_ _ _ _

____“Dean?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, Cas?”_ _ _ _

____“I know that this is difficult for you to talk about, so why are you smiling?”_ _ _ _

____Dean hadn’t even realised that his expression had softened. “Well, for one, I’m drinking this whiskey a fair bit faster than you are. And two, a knife isn’t nearly as bad.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s not?” Cas’ frown betrayed his confusion._ _ _ _

____“I mean, it’s _bad_ , but I can defend against it. At least, I can in the dream.”_ _ _ _

____“So tonight’s dream wasn’t as bad as it usually is?”_ _ _ _

____“Not by a long shot.”_ _ _ _

____“You were still screaming, though.”_ _ _ _

____Dean shrugged and took another drink. “Guess I’m just loud.”_ _ _ _

____“Dean.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah?”_ _ _ _

____“If the objects and events in people’s dreams take significance from their lives, then why are you dreaming about a knife all of a sudden?”_ _ _ _

____“I dunno. I mean, the only knife I’ve thought about at all recently was the one that gave you _that_.” Dean nodded towards the bandage on Castiel’s forearm._ _ _ _

____“Are you saying that your mind somehow connects the knife with… me?”_ _ _ _

____“To be honest, I’m not sure. But I guess it’s possible.” Dean turned his hand over under Castiel’s touch and laced their fingers together. “You know, for all the crazy shit that brought us together… I’m glad you’re here.”_ _ _ _

____Castiel stared at him for one long intense moment before surging forward and suddenly kissing Dean. Their teeth clacked together, and Dean was very aware of Castiel’s horns bumping against his forehead. Whether it was the whiskey or it was the fascinating, and terrifying, and altogether _strange_ man in front of him Dean couldn’t be sure — but he found himself kissing Castiel back with everything he had._ _ _ _

____Dean’s hand reached up and cupped the back of Castiel’s head, keeping him close. His lips licked into Castiel’s mouth, biting and sucking at whatever he could. Castiel was still awkwardly perched with his foot on the chair, and he lowered it to sit forward and lean into Dean. He placed a hand on Dean’s chest, letting it slide down to his hip._ _ _ _

____“Dean,” Cas’ voice was dark and heavy with want. “I need you.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah.”_ _ _ _

____Dean stood, bringing Castiel to his feet with him. But before Cas could begin to lead the way to the spare room, Dean stopped him. “And where do you think you’re going?”_ _ _ _

____“Oh,” Cas began, obviously misinterpreting the words. “I thought —”_ _ _ _

____“Well, you have a mattress on the floor and I have a bed. You’re going the wrong way. And, if I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand times —” Dean came in close to Cas, one arm behind his back, the other sweeping behind his legs, lifting him up in one smooth movement, “— you need to stay off your damn foot.”_ _ _ _

____Cas huffed a laugh and held onto Dean tighter. “I suppose I should start listening to you.”_ _ _ _

____“Damn straight you should. Christ, you’re heavy.”_ _ _ _

____“Don’t drop me.”_ _ _ _

____“I won’t, I won’t _drop_ you, Cas.” He planted a kiss on Castiel’s forehead and made his way back to his bedroom, depositing Castiel on his bed only slightly harder than necessary. Castiel scooted up towards the head of the bed, and grinned a large toothy smile at Dean. _ _ _ _

____Dean crawled onto the bed between Cas’ legs, and leaned down to kiss him again. Cas’ hands encircled Dean’s back and he grunted when he felt those long fingernails against his skin._ _ _ _

____“Oh, am I hurting you?” Castiel broke the kiss to speak. “My nails —”_ _ _ _

____“Are fucking awesome.” Dean ducked his face into the crook of Cas’ neck to hide his blush. “You can scratch me a little. I like it.”_ _ _ _

____The smile on Cas’ face was nothing short of lascivious._ _ _ _

____Dean felt the sharpness dig into his back, and it felt fucking amazing._ _ _ _

____“Like that?”_ _ _ _

____“God, yes.” He began kissing at Cas’ neck, unsure of exactly what treatment he should give _scales_. He began by kissing them much the same way he would kiss skin and, upon receiving no complaints, tried scraping his teeth over them lightly._ _ _ _

____“Fuck, Dean.”_ _ _ _

____“You like that?”_ _ _ _

____“Dean, _please_.” Cas’ hands were roaming all over Dean’s back, reaching down to cup his ass, plucking at the fabric in irritation. “These,” he said, breathing heavily, “take them off.”_ _ _ _

____Dean slid his shorts down, lifting the waistband over his already mostly-hard dick. He tossed them over his shoulder and lowered himself to Cas’ chest, kissing over his collarbone and down to his stomach. “Can I take yours off too?”_ _ _ _

____Castiel nodded at him, and lifted his hips off the bed. “There’s just something I need to tell you—”_ _ _ _

____Dean hooked his fingers under the waistband and pulled the sweatpants down and off before Cas could finish his sentence. He sat back on his knees, letting his fingers trail over Cas’ hips and legs in admiration. If he thought the scales on his chest and back were beautiful before, they were nothing compared to the full picture. They were darkest over the outside of his hips, the front of his thighs, and shins. Everywhere else the flesh faded into soft skin, much like on his stomach. Dean felt a shot of pride as he noticed that Cas’ cock was hard too, and leaking._ _ _ _

____It was only when he let himself stop being distracted by the gorgeous naked man in front of him that he noticed something out of the ordinary. “Cas, do you have a _tail_?”_ _ _ _

____“—I have a tail,” Castiel finished lamely._ _ _ _

____“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean’s tone was incredulous, and he pushed gently at Cas’ hipbone to turn him on his side, to see better._ _ _ _

____“Shit, you hate it. I’m, I’m sorry, I’ll go—”_ _ _ _

____“What? Cas, no! Cas, it’s fine.” Dean smiled to soften the mood. “I’m not, I’m not freaked out by it, I swear. I’m just surprised.”_ _ _ _

____“Are you sure?”_ _ _ _

____“I promise. Can I look at it?”_ _ _ _

____Castiel nodded, and rolled onto his side. His tail began at the base of his spine, and Dean imagined it was simply a continuation of a typical human tailbone. It was covered in the same scale pattern as Castiel’s back, was smooth, and tapered off into a rounded end about twelve inches from the base._ _ _ _

____“It’s beautiful, Cas. Just like the rest of you. Can I touch it?”_ _ _ _

____Another nod._ _ _ _

____Dean touched the tail and let his fingers trail down to the end, giving it a light squeeze. It was fleshy, but he could feel that there were bones inside. Castiel shivered at the touch, but made no complaints. “You’re amazing Cas, do you know that?” It was then that Dean had an idea. He reached again to the base of Cas’ tail but let his fingers go underneath, where the appendage joined the rest of his body between his ass cheeks. He pressed lightly at first, then a little harder._ _ _ _

____The reaction was immediate._ _ _ _

____“F-f-fuck, _Dean_!”_ _ _ _

____“Well, shit. Does that feel good?”_ _ _ _

____“You have no idea,” Castiel said breathlessly. “Please, would you do that again?”_ _ _ _

____“Gladly.” Dean repeated the touch a little harder, and Castiel just about arched right off the bed. He let his fingers trail down a little further, until he felt the familiar pucker of a hole. _Well at least that’s the same,_ he thought with no small amount of relief. “Is this okay?”_ _ _ _

____“Please, Dean. Yes, it feels so good.”_ _ _ _

____“Can I put my fingers inside you?”_ _ _ _

____“Please.”_ _ _ _

____Dean reached over Castiel with his free hand to his night stand, opened the drawer, and withdrew his trusty bottle of lube. “This is gonna feel cold at first, I’m sorry.” He planted a kiss on Cas’ shoulder and coated his fingers with the slick substance. He let one slippery finger glide to Cas’ entrance before pushing it inside. Cas took him easily, and in no time he was on his stomach, grinding into the bed beneath him. “Does that feel alright?”_ _ _ _

____“So good, Dean, please — I need more.”_ _ _ _

____Dean obliged with a second finger and, a few minutes later, a third. He pumped them in and out steadily as Castiel slowly turned into a mewling mess in front of him. “Goddammit Cas, the things you do to me.”_ _ _ _

____“Is this alright? Dean, you feel so fucking good.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s perfect, Cas. You’re so hot, you have no idea.”_ _ _ _

____“Show me,” he said. “Show me how I make you feel. Fuck me.”_ _ _ _

____“Are you sure?”_ _ _ _

____“I’m sure, Dean. I need you inside me. Now.”_ _ _ _

____Dean didn’t have to be told twice. He looked back inside his side table drawer, though, and his heart dropped. “Shit.”_ _ _ _

____“What?”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t have any condoms.”_ _ _ _

____“Are you clean?”_ _ _ _

____“I am. I haven’t even been with anyone since my last test. But, are you? When was the last time you got tested?”_ _ _ _

____“Well, never,” Castiel began, and Dean could practically _hear_ the blush creep over his face. “But…”_ _ _ _

____“But…?”_ _ _ _

____“I’ve never had… sex. I’m a virgin. And I’ve never injected intravenous drugs, or had a questionable blood transfusion, so logic would dictate that I’m disease-free as well.”_ _ _ _

____“That it would.” Dean thought for a moment. “You’ve really never had sex?”_ _ _ _

____“Really. I think you’ll recall my telling you that I tend to stay away from people.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, fair point.” Another thought. “And you really want me to be your first, huh?”_ _ _ _

____“I do,” Castiel said. “Now are you going to fuck me or not?”_ _ _ _

____“I would fucking love to. Would you get on your knees for me? Is that okay?”_ _ _ _

____“It is.” Castiel pushed himself to all fours, and shifted so that his bad foot was hanging off the edge of the bed and not receiving any of his weight._ _ _ _

____Dean retrieved the lube and coated his dick with it. His erection had flagged but a few expert swipes of his hand brought it back. He walked on his knees so that his hips were flush with Cas’ ass. He lifted Cas’ tail out of the way — grinning at the reaction he got every time he touched it — and lined his dick up with Cas’ slick entrance before pushing inside._ _ _ _

____Dean slid into Cas’ ass with little resistance, and he could feel the muscles constrict around him. “Fuck Cas, you’re so fucking tight.”_ _ _ _

____“Dean,” Cas groaned, and Dean could hear his nails tear through the sheets on the bed. “Fuck me.”_ _ _ _

____Steadying himself with one hand on Castiel’s hip and the other on his tail, Dean began driving his cock in and out of Cas’ hole. “Touch yourself, Cas. Can you do that for me?”_ _ _ _

____Dean felt Cas’ weight shift underneath him as he reached one hand around his cock and began to stroke. “Fuck, Dean!”_ _ _ _

____“Oh fuck, Cas—” Dean started fucking into him harder, unable to control his pace. “Jesus Cas, I’m gonna, I’m gonna come.”_ _ _ _

____“Please Dean, fuck me hard! Fill me up.”_ _ _ _

____Dean’s hips stuttered as he came and he knew from the frantic pace of Cas’ hand and the slick sounds it made that he wasn’t far behind. They each came shouting the other’s name._ _ _ _

____Dean pulled out of Cas and collapsed on the bed, not caring for the moment about how very sticky and very gross he was going to be. Castiel let himself drop to the bed equally heavily, finding a spot under Dean’s arm._ _ _ _

____It took a few minutes for Dean’s breathing to return to normal. “Shit, Cas. For a virgin you really weren’t half bad, you know that?”_ _ _ _

____“Thank you, Dean. I found it… quite enjoyable as well.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah? I didn’t hurt you? It can be kind of uncomfortable if your body’s not used to it.”_ _ _ _

____“You took very good care of me, Dean. Thank you.”_ _ _ _

____“Any time.” Dean leaned his head down and kissed Cas on the lips. “You… you know that you can stay here as long as you want, right Cas? I mean, you don’t have to stay anywhere you don’t want to —”_ _ _ _

____Castiel silenced him with a kiss. “I do know, Dean. Thank you.”_ _ _ _

____Dean reached over the edge of the bed to retrieve his shorts, but instead of putting them on, he used them to mop up the pool of cooling come on the sheets between them. “There, that isn’t perfect, but there’s no way I’m even thinking of leaving this bed until the sun’s at least halfway across the sky. Sound good to you?”_ _ _ _

____“It does. Good night, Dean.”____

 _ _ _ _\---____

 _ _ _ _Dean woke up some time past noon, his head groggy but also astoundingly clear. Castiel was still fast asleep beside him. Sometime during the night/early morning he had managed to disentangle himself from Dean and wound himself tight into a ball. He even had a pillow clutched tight between his chest and his knees. Dean wasn’t sure if it was a sleeping-outside-and-need-to-stay-warm thing, or just a _Cas_ thing but, either way, it was pretty damn endearing._ _ _ _

____He pushed himself off the bed gently, careful to not disturb Castiel. He padded down the hallway to the bathroom quietly, squinting against the harsh light filtering in through the dusty blinds in the kitchen. He used the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and dressed quickly, not stopping to eat breakfast._ _ _ _

_____No time to waste,_ he thought to himself. _If I'm going to do this, I may as well do it  
now.__ _ _ _

____Dean slipped his jacket on and began dialing Benny's number as soon as the apartment door  
clicked shut softly behind him.____

 _ _ _ _\---____

 _ _ _ _Dean was on top of the world._ _ _ _

____Sure, the solution wasn't ideal, but it was a hell of a lot better than anything he'd ever thought he could have. On the way back from talking with Benny his head had felt clearer than it had in weeks. It was like he finally had the space in his brain to occupy with thoughts _other than_  
how much of a colossal fuck-up he was._ _ _ _

____This thing with Cas was... complicated. But complicated wasn't necessarily bad. And Dean couldn't deny that he wanted something with Cas — if Cas wanted something too._ _ _ _

____Dean flung open his front door, eager to share his good news. “Hey Cas,” he called into the apartment, “is your scaly butt up yet?” Maybe he’d splurge and fry them both up a couple of steaks tonight. He kicked off his boots and hung his jacket on the hook by the door._ _ _ _

____There was no answer._ _ _ _

____“Cas?” The couch was empty, as was the bathroom. Dean looked into the spare room last. No Cas._ _ _ _

____But that wasn’t what made Dean’s heart drop to the bottom of his stomach._ _ _ _

____Castiel’s bag was gone._ _ _ _

____Castiel… was gone.____

 _ _ _ _\---____

 _ _ _ _It took Dean two whole weeks to find Castiel. When he finally did, it was mid-afternoon on a Tuesday, and it was under a bridge in a very sketchy part of town. Taking care to not slide too fast down the embankment, he approached the shabby lean-to cautiously. At least, he tried to. But Castiel’s head was peering around the edge of the corrugated metal before he even got within twenty feet of the thing._ _ _ _

____“Dean?” His voice was understandably cautious._ _ _ _

____“I gotta say, Cas, living under a bridge? Bit of a cliché, isn’t it?”_ _ _ _

____“How did you find me?” Castiel pushed his makeshift door out of its place and stood in front of the humble structure._ _ _ _

____Dean noted that he wasn’t favoring his foot at all._ _ _ _

____“It wasn’t easy. I know this city isn’t that big, but damned if you’re good hiding in it. I, uh, I took your advice. Sort of. Paid a visit to the local high school. Fifty bucks will get you pretty far with a fourteen year-old.”_ _ _ _

____“So you’re here. What do you want?”_ _ _ _

____“I wanted to see that you were okay. And I wanted to tell you that I spoke to Benny. Went and saw him before you left.”_ _ _ _

____“You did?”_ _ _ _

____“I did. I just — I felt so much better after talking with you. After telling you about my nightmare. And I just felt like if I didn’t do it right then, I never would.”_ _ _ _

____“And? Did you get your job back?”_ _ _ _

____“I did not.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh. Then why are you smiling?”_ _ _ _

____“I didn’t get my _old_ job back. But I got a new one. Well, the same job but somewhere else. They wouldn’t hire me back after that shit show with the old lady and her son, but Benny hooked me up with someone he knows who’s a supervisor at a different service, and they hired me on the spot.”_ _ _ _

____“Dean, that’s excellent.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, it’s pretty good.” Dean looked down at the ground, and kicked a rock away with his boot. “Why did you leave, Cas?”_ _ _ _

____Castiel hesitated before he spoke. “Because... because I don’t belong in your world, Dean.”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Cas, but we live in the same world.”_ _ _ _

____“We really don’t, Dean.”_ _ _ _

____“Look, if you don’t want anything to do with me, I’ll fuck off. I will. I just wanted to know that you were okay.”_ _ _ _

____“I am, Dean. Thank you. I’m afraid I took some bandages from your apartment when I left.”_ _ _ _

____Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I noticed. That’s fine, man. They’re supposed to be used. But how did you manage on your foot? I mean, it was only the fourth fucking day.”_ _ _ _

____“I may not have been entirely… transparent… to you regarding how quickly it was healing. It was sore still that day, but I managed. It feels fine now.”_ _ _ _

____“That’s good, Cas. I’m glad. And what about your cut? What did you do with the stitches?”_ _ _ _

____“I took them out myself. It wasn’t terribly difficult.”_ _ _ _

____“No infection?”_ _ _ _

____“No.”_ _ _ _

____“Good. So, Cas?”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, Dean?”_ _ _ _

____“Will you come home?”_ _ _ _

____“I want to, Dean. So much.” His face looked pained. “But there’s something —”_ _ _ _

____“Hey look, it’s the freak!”_ _ _ _

____Castiel flinched as his words were cut off by four approaching figures walking down the hill beside the bridge. Dean was surprised as four teenaged boys, none of them beyond eighteen, walked right up to Cas and got in his face._ _ _ _

____“What are you doing today, _freak_? Talking to your freaky friend?” the short one asked. He barely came up to Castiel’s chin but it was obvious he thought very highly of himself._ _ _ _

____Dean felt the anger boil up from deep inside of him. If these were the same kids that had attacked Cas... “Hey!” he shouted, advancing on them. “You little shits better take off if you know what’s good for you.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh, _you little shits better take off if you know what’s good for you_ ,” the leader mocked, drawing derisive giggles from his friends. “Looks like the freak’s got a boyfriend!” The gang laughed in response, and Dean heard more than one word he’d never repeat in polite company. “I think _you’d_ better fuck off, old man.” _ _ _ _

____Dean moved forward to place himself between the boy and Cas, but Castiel held an arm out to stop him._ _ _ _

____“You’re going to leave me alone,” Castiel said. His voice was so quiet that Dean had to almost strain to hear._ _ _ _

____“And why would we do that, freak?”_ _ _ _

____Castiel lowered his arm from across Dean’s chest but brought his other hand to clutch at the fabric around the boy’s neck. His nails tore through the fabric almost immediately. “Because,” he began, and Dean watched in awe as the boy’s grubby sneakers slowly lifted off the ground, “I don’t get a lot of food around here. And if I ever catch you within sight of my camp again,” the boy was hanging almost two feet off the ground now, his face level with Castiel’s, “I will peel the skin off your face and eat it in front of you.” He let go of the boy, but had to shake him off to free his nails from his clothes._ _ _ _

____The kid landed on his ass in the gravel, his face pale as paper._ _ _ _

____“Now fuck off,” Castiel growled._ _ _ _

____The boy scrambled to his feet, visibly terrified but still eager to save face in front of his cronies. “Freak grew a pair of balls,” he spat. “Not worth our time.” They left quickly, more than one tripping over his own feet in their hasty escape._ _ _ _

____Castiel waited until they were out of sight before exhaling heavily and leaning against Dean._ _ _ _

____“Holy shit, Cas.”_ _ _ _

____“Do you think that was excessive?”_ _ _ _

____“Excessive? No way Cas, that was fucking beautiful. I’ll tell ya, I don’t think they’re going to bother you again. And I think the urban legend just got a lot scarier.”_ _ _ _

____“Let’s hope so.”_ _ _ _

____“But Cas, I gotta ask: where the _hell_ did that come from?”_ _ _ _

____Castiel snorted. “A lot has happened in the last two weeks.”_ _ _ _

____“And I can’t wait for you to tell me all about it. Can we get out of here now?”_ _ _ _

____“I think that’s an excellent plan, yes. I’ve missed your home, Dean. I’ve missed you.”_ _ _ _

____“And you too, Scales. You have no idea. But I hope you didn’t get too attached to my crappy apartment.”_ _ _ _

____“Why?”_ _ _ _

____“Because my new job? It’s outside the city. One county over. I’m going to be renting a house out in the middle of nowhere starting next month. What do you think of that?”_ _ _ _

____“I think,” Castiel’s brow was creased in a frown as he considered what Dean had said, but then his expression softened. “I think it might be good to get away from people.”_ _ _ _

____“Amen to that. It’s close to Sam’s place too.”_ _ _ _

____“Good. I like Sam.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, of course you do,” Dean said teasingly, rolling his eyes. “Everyone likes Sam.” He swung his arms around Castiel and pulled him in for a tight hug. It felt good beyond words to have him in his arms again. He stepped back and eyed Cas’ shelter. “So my truck is just parked down the road. How much stuff are we bringing back?”_ _ _ _

____“Not much,” Castiel replied. “I’ll be right back.” He separated from Dean, one hand lingering on his arm. He ducked into his lean-to and emerged not three minutes later._ _ _ _

____Dean recognised the dirty, bulging backpack that Cas had been wearing the first night they met, and Castiel passed it to Dean seemingly without thought. But he had a second bag now, one that he kept close to his body._ _ _ _

____Castiel looked from the bag to Dean, his expression one of unease._ _ _ _

____“Where did you get new stuff since the last time I saw you? Did you go shopping?”_ _ _ _

____“Not… exactly.”_ _ _ _

____Dean slung the heavy bag over both his shoulders and held his hand out to help Castiel to his feet. “What is it?”_ _ _ _

____“It’s what I was trying to tell you earlier, Dean. It’s — it’s why I left when I did. And I think it may be why I was able to defend myself just now. I’ll show you, but please. Don’t… panic.”_ _ _ _

____Curiosity had never gripped Dean so hard as it did at that moment. He leaned closer as Castiel loosened the top of the satchel in his arms, pushing it down to reveal what was inside._ _ _ _

____Dean looked inside the bag and didn’t understand at first what he was seeing. But suddenly it all made sense. “Cas…”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, Dean?”_ _ _ _

____“ _Did you lay a fucking egg?_ ”_ _ _ _

____“It appears so.”_ _ _ _

____Inside the bag, nestled in old clothes, lay a large, smooth egg. It was a little larger than a big grapefruit, tapered slightly at both ends, and was a light, speckled green._ _ _ _

____Dean frowned. To say he was a loss for words would be the understatement of the millenium._ _ _ _

____“Dean?”_ _ _ _

____He said nothing._ _ _ _

____“Dean?” Castiel said again. “You’re not saying anything. What… what are you thinking?”_ _ _ _

____“I’m thinking,” Dean said finally, “that it’s a good fucking thing we have a vet in the family. Come on, Cas. Let’s go home.”_ _ _ _

____END_ _ _ _


End file.
